


why must i be a teenager in love

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, billy moves to hawkins earlier au, childhood best friends au, chubby!billy !!, just a general neil trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: Billy’s 9 when suddenly he has a new family. Happened so fast it made his head spin. A new woman he’s expected to call mom even though the mere thought of it makes him sick. A little girl with fiery red hair he’s supposed to call his sister even though it doesn’t feel true. She’s done nothing to him, is too young to even know how, but he resents her anyway.His dad gets a new job. Sends them to the middle of nowhere, and Billy’s never hated anything more in his young life.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	why must i be a teenager in love

**Author's Note:**

> you know that one post on tumblr thats like "my fics are just a series of emotional scenes with no connecting plot"? i really embodied that here lmfao
> 
> im pretty sure i covered everything in the tags but once again: theres definitely not fit parenting going on here by anyone at any point so. also theres billy getting bullied by not neil. so. proceed with caution if that worries you
> 
> title from the song by dion and the belmonts

Billy’s 8 when his mother walks out the door, never to be seen again. There was the occasional phone call in the beginning; brief pockets of time where she’d ask how he was doing, make sure he was okay. She must’ve cared, on some level. Never enough to come back, though. 

It wasn’t long before the calls stopped coming in, and Billy learned to stop wishing for miracles.

Billy’s 9 when suddenly he has a new family. Happened so fast it made his head spin. A new woman he’s expected to call _mom_ even though the mere thought of it makes him sick. A little girl with fiery red hair he’s supposed to call his sister even though it doesn’t feel true. She’s done nothing to him, is too young to even know how, but he resents her anyway. 

His dad gets a new job. Sends them to the middle of nowhere, and Billy’s never hated anything more in his young life. He misses the beach. He misses the heat. He misses his mom, and all he can do is scream and yell about it until his father can’t take it anymore and finds a way to shut him up. Makes sure he learns never to do that again. 

So Billy finds other ways to take out his frustrations. He’s the new kid in school. All chubby cheeks and golden curls and he’s so different from everyone else here. Makes him an easy target for playground bullies, and Billy hasn’t learned how to fight yet. Hasn’t learned how to take advantage of his surroundings or perfect his right hook. But he’s got all this rage and even if he ends up on the bottom it still feels better than keeping it all in.

It’s his second week at Hawkins Elementary and he’s on his back, shirt getting caked in dirt that he knows will piss Neil off more than getting suspended for fighting. _You ungrateful little shit! I’m not buying you a new one until you start acting a little more appreciative._

Some kid named Trey is above him, wailing away at Billy’s face. Or trying to, anyway. Billy maybe hasn’t mastered the art of a fight yet, but if he knows one thing it’s how to block a punch. He keeps his arms up in front of his face, sneaks in a hit to Trey’s stomach when he can manage. 

He doesn’t even know how he got here. Vaguely remembers the word _fag_ being thrown at him before this Trey kid shoved him to the ground, caught him offguard. Billy’s no stranger to the word, but he can’t imagine why anyone at this school would have reason to hurl it at him. He’s careful not to let anyone behind the curtain, has had a wall up since he stepped foot through this hellscape. There’s no way anyone _knows_. They’re just being dicks.

Suddenly there’s a weight off Billy’s body, and he realizes some freckle-faced kid has knocked Trey off of him, now caught in their own scuffle. Billy doesn’t know what the hell’s just happened, why someone else would bother getting into a fight for him. Unless it wasn’t about him. But it’s not like he’s about to ask. He’s a little angry though, at someone else stepping in. He had a handle on it. He was doing _fine_.

He sits up, on a mission to get back into the ring. _Only pussies don’t finish fights_ , he can hear Neil say in his head. And Billy’s no pussy.

There’s a hand in his face. Billy looks up and sees it’s attached to some skinny little kid with floofy hair bigger than his body. 

“Trey Simpson’s an ass,” the kid says, hand still out like he’s waiting for Billy to take it. “Tommy’ll take care of him, though.”

Billy doesn’t know who Tommy is, but he guesses it’s probably that freckly kid laughing like a hyena tussling with Trey. 

“I didn’t need any help,” Billy grouses as he pushes to his feet, completely ignoring the other kid’s hand. 

“Right.” The kid nods. “I’m sure you were gonna get the upper hand any second.”

“I was fine!” Billy yells, watches the way the kid flinches a little at the sudden raise in volume. It makes Billy’s stomach sink a little. Something about the reaction ringing a little too close to him. But he doesn’t apologize. Just stares with his jaw clenched, hands balled into fists at his sides. 

The other boy blinks at him. A silence passes and when he realizes Billy isn’t going to say anything more he shakes his head. “Whatever. Next time you’re getting not-beat up I’ll leave you alone.”

“Good!” Billy says.

“Fine!” The boy counters. “C’mon, Tommy,” he calls to Freckles. And the kid stops the fight like it’s nothing and follows straight in line. It’s weird, Billy thinks, but he’s never really had friends so he can’t really say. 

Trey continues to give Billy dirty looks every now and then, but it’ll be awhile before they come to blows again.

\--

A week passes before Billy and the kid with too much hair cross paths again. They’re the last two left at school, waiting around the carloop with Mrs. Janssen, who Billy can tell is doing her best to look neither burdened nor worried.

It’s not uncommon for Neil to forget to pick Billy up. He used to pull this all the time back in Cali once he was left with the sole responsibility of taking care of his son. The teachers would start to question what kind of father just forgets his kid at school, but then Neil would show up eventually, all fake-apologetic with some sob story about having to work through a shift and “It’s so hard now that his mother’s gone…”. And the teachers would eat it up because why wouldn’t they? Nothing like a single father to garner sympathy points. 

Susan should’ve at least remembered to come get him. But she had Max. Why worry about someone else’s kid when you’ve got your own? No one’s looking out for Billy besides Billy. That much he’s learned by now.

Mrs. Janssen keeps checking her watch, tapping her foot. Billy briefly wonders what she’s so impatient to get to. Probably just home, like he is. But nobody’s really getting what they want today, apparently. 

That statement rings even more true when suddenly Floofy is walking over from the other side of Mrs. Janssen, takes a seat next to Billy like he was invited.

“Get not-beat up lately?” he asks, all smug and proud, and Billy wants to punch him.

“Fuck off,” Billy says instead.

“Billy!” Mrs. Janssen scolds, whipping around to face the boys. “Language!” 

She must feel bad about his dad forgetting him at school because that’s all the punishment he gets. No threats of phone calls home or washing his mouth out with soap. Maybe having a shitty dad has its benefits sometimes.

“So your name’s Billy, huh?” Floofy next to him says, eyes gone a little brighter. Billy doesn’t want to dwell too much on that, though. “I’m Steve.”

“I didn’t ask,” Billy huffs, kicking his foot out in front of him to scuff at the ground. If this kid, _Steve_ , is trying to make friends he’s barking up the wrong tree. He’s apparently got that freckly kid, anyway. What does he need Billy for?

“Are you always this grumpy?” Steve asks, but he doesn’t sound angry, which confuses Billy.

“Are you always this annoying?” Billy fires back, almost like a challenge. There’s this tiny spark of something inside him that makes him want to see how far he can push this Steve. See how much he is willing to take before he decides to give up on whatever he’s hoping to get out of this with Billy.

But Steve’s not biting. At least, not yet. He laughs, and Billy thinks that should be annoying, too. Except it isn’t. Which kind of just ends up annoying him anyway. 

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugs. “Maybe. Do you want to come over to my house?” He asks, like this is already something they _do_.

It catches Billy off guard enough that he’s not ready with any quick snark. He’s kind of dumbfounded, if he’s honest. This kid just inviting him over. 

“I got snacks,” Steve says. His bargaining chip to get Billy to say yes.

“What kind of snacks?”

“I don’t know, like Hostess cakes and stuff,” Steve answers, scratching the back of his neck. 

Billy mulls it over for a second. If Neil hasn’t come to get him by now then he’s probably not coming at all. He can just call home from Steve’s, sort it out from there. He _really_ wants snacks. “You got soda?” He asks, like he hasn’t already made up his mind.

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Billy says as he hops off the bench, indicating he’s ready to go.

“Cool,” Steve says, following Billy’s move. He’s got the biggest grin on his face when he says it, like Billy agreeing to hang out with him is the best thing that could’ve happened. Billy’s never had someone be that excited to be around him before. Except maybe Max, who’s too little and dumb to know better. But Steve should know better.

Billy watches Steve run over to Mrs. Janssen, his big backpack slapping against his small body with the motion. It makes Billy want to laugh, but not in the mean way. It’s kind of… cute? He knows well enough boys should think other boys are cute, but if he doesn’t say it out loud then it doesn’t count.

Steve tugs at Mrs. Janssens’ shirt, frantically trying to get her attention. Billy tries to act like he’s not interested, but keeps an ear in their direction anyway. 

“What is it, Stevie?” Mrs. Janssen asks in that exasperated but patient tone adults usually have when dealing with frantic children.

“Billy and me can walk to my house,” Steve tells her. “It’s not far.”

Billy looks up then to gage Mrs. Janssen’s reaction, see what his chances are of getting his hands on that Hostess cake today. She’s crouched down at Steve’s level, looking past him at Billy like he’s somehow the mastermind of this whole thing. 

“I don’t know, Steve…”

“ _Pleeease_?” Steve whines before he starts speaking a mile a minute. “Our parents are gonna be at work late and we live right next to each other anyway and it’s boring waiting out here and-”

Billy doesn’t miss Steve’s lie, even if it goes right over Mrs. Janssens’ head. He may not know where Steve and his family live, but he knows enough that they’re definitely not neighbors like he said. He’s gotta give him a little credit for that.

Mrs. Janssen holds her hands up placatingly in front of Steve. “Okay, okay, just calm down a second.” She looks around at the carloop, still no sign of life besides the three of them, and checks her watch again. When Billy glances up this time he can see her mulling over her choices internally. 

He’s sure she’ll say no. Will say something about how they need to go home with their parents because those are the rules and they need to be safe. Instead, she says “Okay. But you boys be careful.”

Small towns are weird, Billy thinks. Far too trusting.

“We will!” Steve says, with a little too much enthusiasm, before wrapping his arms around Mrs. Janssen’s waist as she stands up. “Thanks, Mrs. J!” Then he’s spinning around towards Billy, grabbing his arm as he races by. “Come on, there’s a shortcut to my house through the woods.”

Billy’s kind of dumbfounded, but he follows along with Steve anyway. 

Sure enough, they end up in some woods, surrounded by a bunch of trees Billy can’t make heads or tails of, but Steve seems to know his way.

“Do you actually live close?” Billy decides to ask, not at all feeling spooked by the scenery.

“No,” Steve casually admits. “But this _is_ the shortcut.”

They stroll along in an awkward silence for a bit. Billy notices every crunch and rustle of the leaves around him. Wonders what kinds of animals are hiding in the bushes. But Steve doesn’t seem bothered, so Billy keeps his cool. Outwardly, anyway. This isn’t the type of nature he’s used to. Sandy beaches and open water he can do. He doesn’t like feeling boxed in by the browning foliage. 

“So, you’re from California, huh?” Steve asks, snapping Billy from his thoughts.

It’s not something Billy’s gone around advertising, but of course his teacher had to go and make a big deal of it on his first day of school, so naturally it got around to everyone else. “Um, yeah.”

“That’s so cool!” Steve’s eyes go big and bright again. Billy’s never seen someone get so excited over such stupid things before. He kind of likes it. “Like Hollywood? With all the movie stars and stuff?”

Billy’s face scrunches up. _Hollywood_. That’s such a hick thing to say. “No. San Diego.”

“San Diego,” Steve mouths to himself, like he’s tasting the words for the first time. “Where’s that?”

“Below Hollywood,” Billy says as the easiest explanation so Steve will understand. 

“That’s still cool. Did you have beaches and stuff?”

Billy’s instantly pulled back to a memory of him being a little younger, running wild and free in the surf after his mom. He remembers the way the sunlight created a halo of her blonde curls, the way her cotton dress blew around her legs in the afternoon breeze, the way the sound of her laugh echoed against the waves crashing at their feet. It’s like a knife to his chest. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes locked on the dry, fallen leaves at their feet. “We had beaches.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean before,” Steve prattles on with no sign that he’s keyed in on the sudden downturn of Billy’s mood. Whether he has or hasn’t, Billy’s grateful he doesn’t give it attention. “I’ve been to Lake Michigan, though.”

Billy scoffs. “That’s not the same.” He’s almost insulted by the comparison. The mere thought of a _lake_ being the closest thing to an ocean he’s got to look forward to sucks. The next nine years are going to be hell.

\--

His first time at Steve’s house goes alright. He ended up getting his Hostess cake and soda - the actual name brand shit and not the knock-offs that filled his own pantry when his father decided to allow such luxuries. The Harrington’s pantry was loaded with all the expensive shit. Billy had been sold right then and there.

The clincher, though, had been when Steve took him out to the backyard, showed off his pool. 

_”It’s heated,”_ he had said. _”So we can still swim in it even when it’s cold out.”_

It wasn’t the ocean, but it would do.

It wasn’t like Billy was only using Steve for his pool and overpriced sugary treats. Maybe it started out that way, admittedly, but the more time they spent together the more Billy realized he actually liked hanging out with the kid. He was kind of corny sometimes, sure, but in an oddly endearing way that Billy couldn’t help but be drawn to. Like a magnet or something. An invisible force keeping him close. 

Neil hadn’t taken too kindly to the budding friendship at first. Had given Billy an earful after that first time at Steve’s. Hadn’t even been about the fact that his nine-year-old kid walked to a stranger’s house from school to an unsupervised house. That was a little of the issue, sure. But Neil’s main gripe had been about how he had to drive all the way across town after a long day at work to come pick him up. Like the town was even big enough to create that much of a hassle.

It became less of an issue once Neil was made aware that Billy’s new friend was a Harrington, and that that name carried some weight around here. Not that Neil was a kiss-ass or anything. He was just smart enough to know when to leave well enough alone.

So Billy kept hanging around with Steve. Would go to his house after school most days of the week, play his video games, eat his food, use his pool. It was a pretty sweet gig he had going. Best of all was there was hardly ever anyone else around. Sometimes one or both of Steve’s parents would be home, but those instances were rare. Sometimes there’d be a maid or a babysitter joining them. Mostly it was just the two of them and the big empty house. Billy liked that the best. Liked the solitude. The quiet. 

Steve hated it. Billy supposed that’s why Steve let him come around so much. Tommy, too, and some redhead named Carol. He preferred it when they weren’t around. When it was just him and Steve. But it’s not like he could tell Steve that, so he just kept it to himself. Learned to get along with Tommy and whatshername well enough.

Soon enough the four of them found themselves in something of a clique, always together at school or around town when Tommy or Carol’s parents could drive them around. On rare occasions Steve’s own parents would offer up a ride, or offer up a nanny to do it. Neil never offered and Billy never asked and there must’ve been something written on his face that told the other three never to ask either. 

But even with the group comradery, Billy, despite being the newest member, had somehow worked his way closer to Steve than the other two. It wasn’t intentional. Not by a longshot. But without any other friends to go to Billy always ended up with Steve. When Tommy or Carol had to ditch for other plans, Billy was always the one who could stay. 

It probably helped, too, that Steve’s house became something of a sanctuary to Billy. 

He had gotten a bike for his first Christmas in Hawkins. An unusually kind gesture from his father, until Billy learned it had more to do with the fact he could now take himself to and from school so he didn’t have to burden Neil or Susan with the task than any love Neil may have had for his son. 

But that didn’t really matter. It had stung, sure, but the bike allotted Billy a new sense of freedom that he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful for. It also gave him an escape route, which Neil most certainly hadn’t considered. 

Normally after a fight with his dad Billy would be stuck sulking in his room for the night. Definitely _not crying_ , but maybe something close to it. But then he got the bike and suddenly he didn’t have to stay cooped up in that claustrophobic room anymore. 

The first time had been a trial run, see if he could get away with it. He slipped out his window and carefully sought out his bike where he kept it out behind the house. It had been a tense few minutes, holding his breath the entire time so as to not draw any attention to himself. Couldn’t make a peep. If his dad caught him sneaking out he’d be dead.

It hadn’t been until he was halfway down the block, wind whipping through his hair that he finally let himself breathe again, could almost shout about it if he wasn’t afraid of Neil somehow keying in to his voice.

He hadn’t _planned_ on going to Steve’s. The decision just kind of made itself without him realizing. 

Cars were in the driveway. All the Harrington’s were home, which was to be expected given the late hour, but it still left Billy disappointed. He walked his bike to the backyard, knowing full well ringing the doorbell was out of the question. He wasn’t stupid. 

He would’ve tried just climbing up through Steve’s window, but unfortunately there was nothing below it to grab purchase on, which was a real bummer, Billy thought. But he was nothing if not resourceful, so he managed to find a decent enough sized rock and launched it at Steve’s window. 

The one managed to do the trick, either because Billy threw it hard enough the first time or maybe Steve just hadn’t been asleep yet, Billy couldn’t say. He could see a lamp turn on through the window and a small shadow moving around before eventually sliding the window open and poking its head out.

“Billy?” Steve whisper-yelled, loud enough for Billy to hear him, but quiet enough to not wake the rest of his house. Or the neighbors. “What’re doing here?” His words came out a little slurred, like Billy actually did wake him up. Whoops.

“I’m bored,” Billy whisper-yelled back, all casual like it was totally normal for him to sneak across town on a school night showing up in Steve’s backyard. “You wanna hang out?”

Billy couldn’t see much in the way of facial expressions from where he was standing, Steve’s face cast in shadow with only the faintest of moonlight hitting his features. But he could see Steve turn his head towards his room like he was checking to see if anyone was coming. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, turning back. “Hold on.”

A few minutes passed before Billy heard the glass door to the backyard slide open, turned to see Steve slipping out and quietly sliding the door closed.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, making his way over to stand in front of Billy, arms wrapped around himself in the night’s chill.

“Yeah,” Billy replied, trying to remain cool. There was something about the way Steve was looking at him that made him feel exposed, like a raw nerve. Like somehow he knew why Billy was here. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know… maybe because you’ve never come over this late before? How’d you even get here?”

“I rode my bike, jeez.” Billy could feel himself tensing up, the fight he wished he had when his dad was yelling at him earlier creeping its way into his system now with Steve. “Can’t a guy just want to see his best friend?” It’s the first time Billy’s ever said those words out loud. The first time either of them have openly put a label on this newfound kinship. And Billy didn’t _mean_ for it to come out now. Just sort of slipped out…

Steve doesn’t acknowledge it. Or, at least, doesn’t make a big deal out of it. But he must pick up on whatever sour mood Billy’s in that brought him here because suddenly there’s a hand on his shoulder, and Steve’s telling him “Hey, yeah, it’s okay.” Billy doesn’t really know if that’s true, but Steve’s hand on him feels heavy in a comforting sort of way, and if anyone’s gonna make things okay he thinks it would be Steve Harrington. He doesn’t want to think too much about that, though. 

“Your parents home?” He sniffs, tosses his head in the direction of the house. 

“Yeah…,” Steve says, and there’s something a little cautious, a little skeptical, in his tone. He lets his hand fall from Billy’s shoulder and Billy _definitely_ isn’t wishing he’d put it back. “But they’re out cold.” He brings his hand up and gestures knocking back a few drinks. 

Billy wishes alcohol had that effect on Neil. Instead, he just gets angry and loud. The Harrington’s seem to do a lot of things differently than Billy’s old man. Maybe that’s why he ended up here tonight. 

“Do you wanna…?” Steve tilts his head over to the lounge chairs, and Billy nods before following him over. 

Steve lays on one that has the back down so it’s flat. He’s scooted over as close as he can get to the armrest, leaving plenty of space for who Billy assumes is himself. He just ends up standing there awkwardly, hands shoved in his jacket pockets while he thinks about if it’ll upset Steve if he takes another chair. 

“I’m not gonna bite, ya scaredy cat,” Steve says. He’s looking up at Billy with big eyes, rolled onto his side with his arm tucked under his head and the blue glow of the pool is hitting him just right… 

Billy should leave. He occupies the space next to Steve instead, body tense as he tries his best to keep all his limbs to himself while mimicking Steve’s pose. Steve just keeps staring at him, and Billy feels like maybe he’s stopped breathing.

“Do you ever miss it?” Steve asks, voice hushed, just for Billy to hear. “California?”

Billy’s throat feels like it’s going to close up, whether at his memories of home or the fact that he can’t stop staring into those big brown eyes boring into his. “Always.”

“Hawkins must be so different.”

It is. It’s not even comparable - a statement Billy would’ve had no trouble making just a few short months ago. Something’s changed, though. He shrugs his shoulder. “‘S not so bad.” It’s a heavy admission, one Billy never thought he’d make. 

A silence falls over the two while Billy’s own words roll around in his head. Nothing to distract him but the light rustling of leaves through the night breeze. 

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Steve’s voice breaks through the night.

Billy’s heart goes impossibly faster and somehow stills all at once. He has no idea what Steve could have to say. It worries him as much as it excites him, the possibilities. But he takes the chance, nodding his head. 

“You’re my best friend, too.”

It knocks the wind out of Billy. He doesn’t even know if he really believes it. How could he? Steve had a whole life before him, had friends, had Tommy. Billy’s just a newcomer, a visitor, really. Or maybe it’s Steve who’s visiting. Will get bored with Billy and leave eventually. But that’s only fair, because Billy’s planning on leaving, too. Already counts down the days ‘til graduation so he can get the hell out of dodge. 

Maybe they can play pretend for a little while. 

“You can’t tell Tommy, though,” Steve whispers all conspiratorial, a hint of a smile stretching the corner of his mouth. “He gets so jealous.” 

Billy nods again. Steve’s smile is so infectious he can’t help but mirror it despite himself. It feels good to be on the inside, even if only for a little while. He just won’t let himself get too attached to it. 

Steve reaches out his hand between them, pinky up. “Pinky promise?”

Billy looks down, scoffs a little. It chips away at the tension building up in his mind. “You’re a nerd, Harrington.”

Steve’s smile goes brighter. “Yeah, well you’re best friends with a nerd, so what does that make you, Hargrove?” He reaches forward to jab his pinky at Billy’s arm, clearly not letting up until he gets what he wants. 

Billy sighs like he’s being put upon, when that’s not even remotely close to the truth. He hooks his pinky around Steve’s, says “There. Happy?”

Steve smiles all triumphant, like he’s just won the biggest prize at the fair.

In the moment, Billy tried not to be hopeful about what it all meant. Keep your expectations low and you’ll never get hurt. But when he looks back on his life, he realizes that was the night everything changed.

\--

Summers were spent in Steve’s backyard. It wasn’t the only reprieve from the oppressive Indiana heat, but it was Billy’s favorite. Sure, Hawkins had a quarry and even its very own community pool, but Steve’s pool had the luxury of privacy. No Trey Simpson’s around to give him shit about not taking his shirt off in the water, or giving him more shit when he _did_. No girls in new bikinis to take Steve’s attention away from him.

And, sure, sometimes Steve would have friends over from school. And on those days Billy would sulk in the corner until everyone left, until he was the last man standing and he and Steve would run inside to watch a movie, or get to setting up a tent in the backyard before nightfall to do the closest thing to camping Steve Harrington would ever allow. But most days it was just the two of them, splashing around and filling the warm afternoon air with laughter. Not a care in the world between the two. Those were the days Billy liked best. Wouldn’t trade them for anything. 

Today was one of those days. A bright and sunny Tuesday afternoon, the sounds of summer wafting through the neighborhood, along with the radio blaring up on the deck. The Knack’s singing about Sharona, and Steve’s right along with them, his hair all wet and flopping around as he sings into the pretend mic in his hand. 

Billy treads water in the deep end, casually keeping afloat while his eyes stay transfixed on Steve. He’s got a decent enough voice, not that it matters. He’s having so much fun with himself that Billy would be hanging on to every word and hair whip regardless. It’s that Harrington charm. Strikes anyone within a ten mile radius down. 

“I knew you were a cornball, Steve, but geez,” Billy says, because he’s gotten good at deflecting every time his mind starts wandering off to places it shouldn’t.

Steve, to his credit, doesn’t miss a beat. Keeps bopping around in the water to the song. “Whatever, man. I’m not about to get bullied by someone who listens to Linda Rondstandt.”

Billy blushes. Steve had caught him listening to Desperado _one_ time. His mom used to sing it to him, before she left. Always had it playing on the radio or record player. He knew if he told Steve that he’d stop making fun of him for it, but Billy’s mom was a door he liked to keep closed, even if his pride had to take a minor hit. 

“I only like her ‘cause she’s hot,” Billy grumbles, trying to save face.

Steve’s not buying it. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you could see her over the radio.” He sticks his tongue out just to be a jerk, and Billy can’t help it. He splashes a wall of water right at Steve’s face, cackling as the chlorine taste hits Steve’s tongue and his face screws up in a grimace. “Oh, that does it, Hargrove!”

Then he’s swimming over, closing the gap that used to be between them just so he can jump on top of Billy and dunk him under. Billy, in turn, wraps his arms around the other boy and brings him down with him, and it’s not long before the two are wrestling around in the water, trying to one up each other. 

Billy gets a mouthful of water when Steve’s fingers find the ticklish spot on his side, and Billy slips under in surprise. He gets Steve back by lifting him up as best he can (he may not be strong but Steve’s too thin to weigh much) out of the water, just to drop him back down. 

It’s _fun_. Has Billy’s heart racing and cheeks hurting from how big he’s smiling. It’s moments like this that make him miss California a little less. Makes living in the middle of nowhere a little more bearable. 

He’s so caught up in the sound of Steve’s laughter that he almost misses the radio abruptly cutting off. Steve seems to notice the same moment Billy does, full body spinning in the water to face his dad, who must be home on his lunch break or something, if Billy had to guess. 

“Boys,” Mr. Harrington greets, not at all kindly. He’s well put together in a business suit, hair slicked back, looks every bit the professional businessman he is, even if Billy still isn’t sure exactly what it is he does. He stands tall and stoic, one of those guys that commands respect whenever he enters a room. He’s nothing like Billy’s dad upon first glance, physically the two couldn’t be more different. But there’s a familiar chill that runs down Billy’s spine every time he has to be around him.

“Mr. Harrington,” Billy responds, because while he may not like the guy he still knows enough to have respect for his elders. God knows it’s been drilled in him enough times. 

It doesn’t matter how polite Billy is, though. Steve’s dad barely acknowledges him. Treats him like nothing more than a nuisance, which, _whatever_. It’s no sweat off Billy’s back.

What _does_ bother him, though, is how Mr. Harrington treats _Steve_.

“Is this how you’re going to spend your summer, Steven?” Mr. Harrington asks in this bored, annoyed tone like he’s tired of his kid daring to act like one.

“Um…” Steve looks around for a second, over his shoulder at Billy, before turning back to his father with an innocent shrug. “Yes?”

Billy can see Mr. Harrington’s eye roll all the way from the other side of the pool, would have picked up on it even without the accompanying sigh. “Don’t you think you should be using this time to hit the books? Your grades last year were abysmal. I don’t need this town thinking I raised a stupid son.” 

He’s adjusting his cufflinks the whole time, like he doesn’t deem his own son important enough to give his attention to, even while berating him. It makes Billy’s stomach twist. Makes him want to kick and scream and yell at the guy. 

He clenches his fists under the water, watches with a keen eye how Steve just kind of deflates in front of him. Billy can’t see his face, but he can just about imagine what Steve must look like right now, and it’s not _fair_. Where Steve was so vibrant and light a few minutes ago, he’s now sullen and meak.

“I passed, though…” Steve tries to argue, but it holds no confidence. He knows there’s no winning this.

“It’s not good enough just to pass, Steven-” 

Billy thinks he would’ve gone on with different ways to call his son dumb, but an alarm goes off on Mr. Harrington’s watch that steals his attention. 

“I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve mumbles, head down as his father walks back inside. 

There’s a silence that settles over them now with newfound tension left over by Mr. Harrington. Steve doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at Billy. 

Billy’s not entirely sure what he’s supposed to do now. Acknowledge the awkwardness? Ignore it? Neither option seems ideal. He’s never really been any good at breaking tense moments. He leans into them. That’s what he knows best. “Your dad’s an ass.”

He hears Steve breathe out a laugh through his nose, an entirely humorless sound, and watches the way Steve’s shoulders shrug with the force of it. 

“Don’t,” Steve says as he turns around. He doesn’t look mad, so Billy takes that to mean he doesn’t entirely disagree, but he looks tired. That light that was shining bright before now dulled. It’s not right. 

“It’s not right! He shouldn’t talk to you like that!” 

Billy will look back years from now and realize his vitriol wasn’t solely aimed at Steve’s dad, that it was his way of trying to control his own situation, to right those wrongs that were done to him. But all of that goes over his head in the moment, and all he knows right then and there is that Steve is _not_ stupid. And even if he was, his father’s still an ass for saying so.

“You’re not stupid.” Billy half expects Steve to get mad at him for pushing it (and Billy’s not _sorry_ about it. He’ll keep saying it a hundred times over, even if Steve ends up hating him, because if Steve’s dad is gonna say shit like that then _someone_ has to drill it into Steve’s skull that it isn’t true.) 

But Steve doesn’t look mad. He’s staring at Billy all wide eyed, mouth slightly open. It’s kind of dopey, if Billy’s being honest, but in, like, a cute way that freezes him in his own tracks. 

And Steve just keeps _staring_. It’s all Billy can do to just stare back. He doesn’t know what’s happening. It feels like maybe there’s something electric in the air, like before a storm. But there’s not a cloud in the sky. Maybe he’s just imagining it. 

It’s Steve who ends up losing their little staring contest. He turns to pull himself out of the pool. Billy only lets himself look for the briefest second at the suddenly exposed expanse of Steve’s chest, arms, back, before averting his gaze. Something he’s been finding is getting increasingly more difficult the more time they spend out here. He focuses on the line of trees on the other side of Steve’s yard instead. It’s not until he’s sure Steve’s far enough away, hears the wet pattering of feet on concrete and the sound of a towel being pulled off one of the lounge chairs that he chances another look. 

“D’you wanna go watch a movie?” Steve asks, beach towel draped around his neck while he rubs one end of it over his hair to dry. He looks so casual doing it. All traces of his previous shame all but gone had Billy not known any better. It almost gives him whiplash. 

“Um, yeah,” Billy says, playing along. “Whattaya got, Harrington?”

Steve prattles on about the new videos they’ve gotten, how they just got a VHS player and Billy’s just _gotta_ check it out. 

Billy doesn’t know how Steve does it. How he can just let things roll off his back like he does. It’s an admirable quality, something he wishes he possessed. Every dark thing in Billy’s life consumes him until he’s drowning it, until he can’t see his way out. But Steve… Steve never looks like he’s drowning. In Billy’s eyes, he’s the brightest damn thing around, and Billy’s drawn like a moth to a flame. He knows he’ll end up burned, so maybe he’s the stupid one for not knowing when to say when.

\--

8th grade comes and Billy’s no longer the new kid, but he’s still the _chubby_ kid. He’s managed to lose some pudge as he started to grow, evening out some with his new height, but it wasn’t enough to keep annoying little pricks like Trey Simpson and his gang of assholes off his case.

It also didn’t help that Billy and Steve had been inseparable, always attached at the hip. Couldn’t find one without the other. Tommy and Carol often tagged along, too. But of course that didn’t make for a juicy rumor. Didn’t give anyone ammunition to taunt and harrass Billy. 

It was always whispers behind his back. Sometimes someone would get bold enough to say something to Billy’s face, but his right hook was getting better and people were slowly learning not to test him. 

Keyword being _slowly_.

It was always Billy who ended up at the receiving end of everyone’s ire. No one had the balls to say anything to Steve. His family was too powerful in that town. Could burn too many bridges. But Billy? Well, the Hargrove name meant shit. The only power Neil had was what he enforced in the privacy of his own home, in the shades of black and blue left hidden under his son’s clothes.

And, maybe, it’s because of this that Billy sometimes goes looking for his own fights. Will go out of his way to confront schoolyard bullies on days where his skin feels a little too tight, nerves a little too raw. 

Steve tries to stop him, if only so that he doesn’t get into trouble, but he never puts up _that_ much of a fight. Billy’s caught Steve looking on enough times to notice how utterly enthralled he tends to get. A little sparkle in his eye as he cheers Billy on. And maybe it eggs Billy on a little. Makes him want to put on a show. It’s definitely helped improve his technique, at least.

The problem comes on a day where Steve gets held behind after last period, their teacher wanting to go over some test grade of his. Steve doesn’t ask, but Billy waits out by the front of the school for him anyway. He considers briefly getting a jump on his homework, but opts instead for a nap, making himself comfortable on a bench by placing his backpack under his head. 

He’s just closed his eyes when he hears a gaggle of voices behind his head. He rolls his eyes under his lids, can already tell who the noise belongs to without having to open them.

Billy’s not in the mood for a fight today. For one, he’s just gotten settled and doesn’t really feel like moving until Steve comes to find him. And two, his ribs have been a little sore all day thanks to daddy dearest using them as a punching bag the night before because he was pissed at his boss (something he’s managed to keep to himself despite the shooting pains he’s felt every time he’s had to twist or bend or move faster than he’d care to).

So when Trey Simpson and his cronies come by just to talk shit within earshot of Billy, he ignores it. Bites his tongue and pretends to be asleep or just oblivious to the screeching sound of their voices. 

It doesn’t work. Because of course it doesn’t. The universe has never been on Billy’s side so why should it start now? 

And then something pelts him in the face. A paper ball, he realizes once he opens his eyes and spots it on the ground. And all he can think is _Seriously?_

Words Billy can ignore. But now Trey’s crossing a line, and Billy’ll be damned if he lets someone get away with that kind of blatant disrespect. 

“What’re you? Five?” he asks as he sits up, does his best not to wince at the way his ribs scream in protest at the movement.

“What’re you?” Trey fires back, a mocking mimic of Billy’s voice. “A queer?”

Billy feels his skin burn hot, from his cheeks down to his chest. He steels his face from its previous calm indifference, his jaw clenching tight as his eyes burn a hole through Trey, whose friends are circled around sneering and laughing. 

It’s a split second between Billy white knuckling the edge of the bench he’s sat on and him lunging his full weight into Trey, knocking the other boy to the ground.

A full fight breaks out. Billy’s got the upperhand, straddling Trey as he pummels the kid’s face. A crowd forms around them, mostly Trey’s friends, but some stragglers waiting to get picked up by their parents join in, too. It’s all background noise to Billy, the taunting and cheering. His only focus is on making Trey bleed.

He’s doing a petty good job of it, too, if he says so himself. There’s a primal rage that’s been sitting just under his skin for years, and he feels like he’s finally letting it out. It’s addicting. He can’t stop.

Until somebody decides to cut in and stop him themselves. He’s pulling his fist back to land another hit when suddenly he’s being yanked back by his shoulder, being held in place. Something doesn’t feel right. He turns to look at who had the balls to interfere when suddenly a fist lands to his tender ribs, and all Billy can do is scream out from the blow.

He folds in half, and Trey takes the opportunity to turn the tables. He shoves Billy to the ground and is suddenly looming over him. Billy’s had the wind knocked out of him, clutching to his side just trying not to throw up from the pain. He can barely focus on what’s happening anymore.

Trey’s wailing away on him, he knows that much. Screams every name in the book at him from _fag_ to _lard ass_ with a sick satisfaction. When Billy finally musters up the strength to fight back he’s met with a boot to his hand, Trey’s friends jumping in to help.

It’s an uneven match. Billy should be pissed. He _is_ pissed. But he also can’t help but laugh at how fucking cowardly they all have to be to take him on in a group. He feels flattered, honestly. Flashes a blood-stained grin at them as his laughter gets more manic. 

There’s a shout that cuts through the rest of the noise. Something fierce and angry and so beautifully familiar. 

Suddenly Billy can see Steve’s face pushing through the blur of the crowd, trying to check on Billy, trying to shove everyone off. His own personal hero.

Steve’s about to get dragged into the fight himself before an adult voice comes from somewhere distant. _”What are you boys doing?!”_ And instantly Trey and his gang are fleeing, scattering off in different directions. 

Steve helps Billy stand, draping one of Billy’s arms over his shoulder as he wraps his own around Billy’s waist to hold him steady. “We gotta run, Bill,” he says, and Billy doesn’t think he can, but he also doesn’t feel like dealing with teachers or whoever the fuck is about to reach them, so he just nods and lets Steve drag them off.

It hurts like a _bitch_ exerting his body the distance it takes to get off school property, far enough away that whoever was coming won’t find them, be able to identify any of the boys from the scuffle. When they make it back to Steve’s big empty house it’s all Billy can do not to just collapse in the doorway. But Steve manages to drag him to the bathroom, sit him down on the toilet to look him over. 

“Shit, Billy,” Steve whispers as he gingerly touches his fingers to Billy’s face. Billy let’s out a soft whimper, from the tenderness of his flesh or the tenderness of Steve’s touch, he’ll never know. Maybe it’s both. 

He takes the chance to get a look at himself in the mirror while Steve’s looking around for the first aid. It’s not so bad. He’s got a split lip and a split brow. His eye will probably be nice and bruised tomorrow. Neil’s gonna love that… At least he was spared from getting in trouble with the school. 

Steve comes back to stand in front of Billy, tilting a bottle of alcohol over a cotton ball before gently dabbing it over Billy’s eye. “Trey Simpson is such an asshole,” he mutters. 

Billy can do nothing but sit and watch him. The anger is evident on Steve’s face, unmissable. It’s such a new concept to have someone be angry on his behalf. It shouldn’t be, because, hell, isn’t this how he and Steve became friends in the first place? Steve had been sticking his neck out for Billy since day one, and Billy still isn’t used to it.

“What’s even his problem with you? I think he’s jealous, you know?” Steve’s rambling. He switches the bloodied cotton ball out for a clean one to work on Billy’s lip. “Like, why is he so fixated on how you look, huh? They’re all just mad because you look better than all of them. Uh-” He falters for a moment, hand twitching by Billy’s face. 

Billy just stares up at him, transfixed. 

“Not that, I’m like, _looking_ , or anything.” Steve’s blushing, but he’s still talking so fast, averting his eyes. “But I mean- Okay. You _know_ you’re not ugly, right? Some, _not me_ , but _some_ might even call you cute, and-”

Billy doesn’t know what happens next. Well, he _does_. He’s kissing Steve Harrington. A quick, little, close-mouthed chaste thing on his lips. But for the life of him he doesn’t know _why_. And, okay, he has the answer to that, too. He’s been wanting to kiss Steve Harrington for years. Has tried to deny that fact about himself for just as long. Knows it’s fucking stupid and reckless and could end everything. Which is exactly why he doesn’t know why it’s happening. 

Probably something to do with Steve standing so close to him, patching him up after he’d just gotten the shit kicked out of him. The adorable way he was rambling on about Billy being _cute_... Maybe Trey Simpson knocked a screw too many loose earlier. Maybe Billy’s just taken one too many hits to the head. Has sent any remaining sense of self preservation flying out the window. He’s got a death wish, clearly. Because even if Steve isn’t the one to deliver the final blow himself, he’ll run off and tell somebody. Who’ll tell somebody else, and so on and so on until it gets back to Neil and then Billy’s _really_ fucked. Somehow the prospect of losing Steve feels worse, though. 

As quick as Billy had shot forward to connect his lips to Steve’s, he’s jolting back. Frozen in his seat, all wide eyed like he’s just been burned. His heart feels like it’s about to pound straight out of his chest. 

He doesn’t say a word. Neither does Steve, who’s standing there frozen to his own spot, eyes wide like Billy’s and mouth slightly agape. His face is as red as Billy’s feels. 

Billy should say something. Laugh it off, pretend it was a joke. _I really got you there, huh, Harrington? Shoulda seen your face!_ All that comes out when he opens his mouth is a strangled “I-”

Then Steve’s leaning forward. His lips press to the corner of Billy’s mouth. Billy can’t tell if that was intentional, or if he’d meant to aim more center. It doesn’t really matter. A kiss is a kiss when it’s shared with another boy. It all means the same thing. 

It should relieve him, on some level. Steve didn’t run away screaming or punch him in the face. He _kissed him back_. 

Somehow that’s scarier. 

Billy’s chest feels tight all of a sudden. His airway’s closing and he can’t breathe. Only one thought keeps echoing in his head: _Leaveleaveleave_.

He pushes himself up off the toilet, shoving his way past his best friend. “I have to go,” he says to the ground. Can’t look at Steve no matter what. 

“Billy, wait!” There’s something desperate in Steve’s voice. 

Billy knows if he looks now he’s done for. He’s almost to the door. He can make it. 

“Bill!”

There’s a hand grabbing his elbow. Billy doesn’t think. Just spins on instinct and shoves the other body away. “I said I have to go!” His voice comes out louder, _scarier_ than he’s ever heard it. He catches sight of Steve entirely on accident and finds the other boy flat on his ass, looking up at him with something like betrayal in those wide, brown eyes. And Billy’s stomach twists because _he_ did that. 

He moves to go help Steve up, but a voice in the back of his mind that sounds entirely too much like his father tells him _no_. He throws his hands up, fists forming by the side of his head. He wants to tear his hair out. Beat himself up. He can feel heat burning in his eyes and he _can’t_.

“I’m-” _Sorry_ , he wants to finish, but the word stays choked in his throat. Besides, it’s better if he’s not, he decides as he turns on his heels and flees out the front door. 

Let Steve be mad at him. He deserves it. It’ll make for an easier break, too. Because Billy knows they’re done. Knew it the second his lips landed on Steve’s. There’s no world where he comes back from this. There’s no more normal.

Billy came to this town a loner, an outcast. Steve was never supposed to happen. It was never supposed to get this far. And as far as Billy’s concerned, this is just the universe course correcting its mistake.

\--

They don’t talk for weeks. It’s the longest they’ve gone since they met. Steve had tried. Had tried calling Billy at home, had tried cornering him at school. But Billy was real good at avoiding him.

One day Steve had had enough and just… stopped trying. 

Billy would be a liar if he said that didn’t hurt, watching Steve just give up. But it was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Otherwise why keep ignoring him? It just sucked losing his only friend. 

Losing Steve meant losing Tommy and Carol, too. Not that he really cared. It wasn’t like they were particularly close to begin with. Definitely not _Steve_ level close. It was just their absence amplified his loneliness. But Billy should be used to it by now - people leaving him - even if he’s the one pushing them away.

Billy walks the halls alone, scowl perpetually on his face to keep everyone at arms’ length. It surprises him every day that there isn’t a new rumor about him. No more whispering than usual. Billy doesn’t know what Steve’s waiting for, not telling everyone what happened. 

Maybe Steve’s afraid if he tells it’ll just give Billy an open to reveal Steve had kissed him back. Which is ridiculous, Billy thinks, because it’s not like anybody would believe him. Steve’s words hold more weight. He’s the one with the name, the money, the popularity. It’d be easy enough to make everyone believe Billy was just some _creepy fag_ trying to make a move on him. No one ever understood why they were friends in the first place. _The Harrington’s must love doing charity_ had been a popular theory. Because that’s all Billy was. A charity case. A project. A toy to ease Steve’s boredom. 

Billy had to believe that, too, because the alternative was too scary. _Steve Harrington_ couldn’t want him back. Billy couldn’t live in a world where that was a possibility, because that world didn’t exist. It’s why Billy never let himself hope for it. It was too unrealistic, and he wasn’t stupid. The boy didn’t get the boy. No movies ended that way, no stories. Even if they did, his father sure as hell wouldn’t let it happen. 

Billy had been fine with being Steve’s friend and nothing more. But he just had to go and fuck it all up like he always did, and this was his only option. Cut ties completely. Keep his head down until he graduated and got the hell out of there, never to look back.

A plan easier said than done, it would turn out. 

It’s not like living at home was ever particularly _easy_ for Billy, but with his escape hatch to the Harrington’s it had been at least _bearable_. He had gotten pretty good at avoiding one of his father’s moods by either hanging out at Steve’s or somewhere around town with him and Tommy. But those days were over, keeping him cooped up in the house because even venturing out alone wasn’t an option. This town was too small. He didn’t want to risk running into Steve at one of their old haunts. Staying locked up with Neil seemed better.

Neil had questions, of course. Wanted to know why Billy was suddenly spending so much time at home, would yell when Billy didn’t come up with a satisfactory answer. He blamed Billy, obviously. Said he must’ve done something to the Harrington boy to piss him off. Because that’s what Billy does, pisses everybody off. Nothing but a nuisance to everyone around him. A disease. 

His dad’s right this time, not that Billy would ever tell him that. But he supposes he doesn’t need to. Neil always just _knows_.

Billy had tried keeping to himself in the beginning. Locked himself up in his room with the music up so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. Neil got sick of that pretty quick, though. Started giving Billy bullshit jobs to do around the house. The worst part was Billy didn’t even mind it that much. It was annoying, sure, but it helped him not think about the shithole of a situation he put himself in. 

It was a win-win for a while. Billy stayed distracted, Neil kept his fists to himself. But of course the peace couldn’t last.

Going on a month without incident had lulled Billy into a false security - the last time he’d ever let that happen. 

He’d gotten it into his head that he wanted his ear pierced. Whether because he thought it’d make him look good or because he thought it’d make him look edgier, set him apart from all the residents of Hawkins as something distinctly _him_ , he didn’t really know. Didn’t care to analyze it, just knew what he wanted. He should’ve known better.

“How many daughters do I have, Billy?” was Neil’s response when Billy had asked about going down to the piercing parlor. He’d been sitting in his favorite recliner watching the ball game.

“Um.” Billy’s eyes darted around in confusion before answering. “One, sir.”

Neil’s eyes never left the television screen as his voice dripped with cool venom. “That’s right. So, I’m not going to sign off on my _son_ turning himself into a pansy.”

It wasn’t so much the rejection itself that upset Billy. He had been expecting it, if he was being honest. But the needless dig thrown in, his father’s cruel words, that’s what made him storm off to his room. He slammed the door behind him, flipping on his radio at a boisterous volume before digging around through his belongings until he found something sharp enough. 

A safety pin, discarded in the depths of one of his drawers. He sat himself down in front of his mirror and stared at his reflection, eyes set in a determination he’d never felt before that day. Any superficial ideas Billy had before about this piercing were long out the window. It was now one clear message: a giant _fuck you_ to Neil Hargrove. 

He was too focused on his hatred for his father to even consider numbing his ear or sterilizing the pin, just went straight from Point A to Point B and jammed the thing into his lobe. 

It hurt like shit. He had hoped the music playing drowned out the yelp that escaped his lips. A small trickle of blood came out of the newly formed hole where the metal lay, and for once Billy felt proud.

The feeling was short-lived. 

“I _said_ turn down that fucking-” Neil came crashing in like a hurricane, freezing only as Billy whipped around in fear, giving his father full view of what he’d just done.

Suddenly Billy didn’t feel so tough. He yanked the safety pin out of his ear, wincing at the sudden friction on his sensitive skin. He tossed it somewhere behind him like maybe if he got rid of the evidence that would erase the image from Neil’s mind. 

No such luck. 

Billy backed himself into a corner as his father stalked closer, felt suddenly so much younger than his 14 years. “Dad, I-” His voice came out so shaky it was almost unrecognizable even to himself. 

“You deliberately disobeyed me, Billy,” Neil said with such an eerie calm it sent shivers down Billy’s spine. 

“I- I’m sorry, I-” Billy could feel heat behind his eyes, but he _couldn’t_ cry. Crying only made it worse. He tried to keep the tears at bay, staring unblinking up at Neil despite the tremors racking his body. 

“You’re sorry,” Neil said, voice mocking but still even. “Oh, well then!” 

Billy watched the corner of Neil’s mouth tick up into a vicious charade of a smile as he turned away. But Billy knew it wasn’t over. It’s never that easy. 

No sooner than he turned away was he back in Billy’s space, a firm hand locked so tight in his curls that Billy couldn’t help but yell out and grab at Neil’s hand trying to soften his grip.

“Ow! Dad, stop! You’re hurting me!”

Neil didn’t let go. Didn’t let go as he dragged Billy by his hair out his room, down the hall, through the living room. Max and Susan must not have been home, Billy thought, otherwise Neil would’ve handed out a swift beating and been done with it. No, these particular displays of his father’s rage were reserved for when there was no audience present. 

“You want to be a disrespectful little shit? Then do it under someone else’s roof!” Neil yelled as he opened the front door and shoved Billy out onto the front porch so hard he ended up falling through the screen door, stumbled down the step and fell flat onto the concrete. He scraped the palms of his hands in an attempt to catch himself, but the stinging that followed was the least of his problems. 

Billy watched his father retreat back into the house, heard the click of the lock on the door, and that’s when the panic set in.

He scrambled to his feet, launching himself through the screen door until he was pounding on the wooden one. “Dad! Please! Let me in! I’m sorry!” he yelled, his fists banging on the front door as loud as he could. Tried making enough noise that Neil _couldn’t_ ignore him. He didn’t stop, kept banging and banging and repeating the same words over and over until his throat was raw.

The door, to his surprise, swung open. Billy almost fell through, relief washing over him as he thought his father’d changed his mind, would let him back in. He was caught with a firm grip to his chin, fingers digging so hard into his cheeks he thought they might bruise.

“Be _quiet_!” Neil barked. “I told you, until you learn to respect my rules, you’re not welcomed here.” He walked Billy out, hand still bruising on his jaw, until they reached the front yard, and only then did he let him go. 

“Where’m I supposed to go?” Billy felt his lip quiver and _fuck_! He had to keep it together.

“I don’t give a shit,” Neil replied coldly. “But you better be gone before Susan and Maxine come home.”

It wasn’t up for debate, Billy quickly understood. When Neil went into the house again, he wasn’t coming out. 

So Billy started walking. It’s only then he realized he was barefoot, felt the cold gravel of the road under his feet. It wasn’t _freezing_ out, but he definitely should have been in more than just his t-shirt and jeans. He kept his arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to keep warm. It didn’t do much good. Didn’t help that he started crying some five minutes into his trek to nowhere, making him feel the cold on his face even more.

He’d really done it now. Lost his best friend, lost his _home_ , even if only for the night. All because he could never keep his impulses to himself. He never fucking _thinks_. Is always so _goddamn selfish_. It’s probably what drove his mom away. She probably got sick of him, too. That’s all he’s destined to be: a burden on everyone he meets. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, or even what direction he’d been going in, when he finally looked up. A troubling sense of deja vu settled in as he took in the sight of the Harrington house staring back at him. He didn’t know how he always ended up back there. 

And it’s not like he could _go in_. Not after what he did. He and Steve hadn’t spoken in weeks. Billy wouldn’t be wanted. 

Just as he turned to leave he heard a door open, Steve’s voice calling out to where Billy’s standing at the edge of the yard, “The hell are you doing here, Hargrove?” He sounded angry. Billy deserved that. 

“I’m not,” Billy said. “I’m leaving.” He couldn’t do this. Least of all with Steve. 

There’s footsteps behind him, padding along on the grass. “What are you talking about? How’d you even get here? Where-” Steve reached out for Billy’s arm to turn him around. Billy tensed up and on reflex swatted the hand away with maybe a little more force than necessary. Steve recoiled, hands up in front of him like he meant no harm. “Shit, Billy, where are your shoes? Did you _walk_ here?” His eyes trailed slowly up Billy’s body, feet to head, where his eyes went a little buggy. It would’ve almost been funny if Billy hadn’t been so fucking exhausted. “Is that _blood_?”

And, oh, shit. Billy had forgotten about that. His hand flew up to his ear like that would somehow make Steve unsee it. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Billy…” Steve said, voice gone quieter as he took a slow step forward, hand reaching out like he wanted to touch, to comfort, but stopped himself half way. “What happened?”

Billy didn’t answer. Couldn’t seem to make the truth work its way past his throat. He couldn’t look at Steve, either. Couldn’t look at that too caring, too forgiving expression he had on his face. Billy didn’t deserve it. “Are your parents home?” he said instead, looking past Steve at the house behind him.

“No. They’re in Indianapolis for the weekend.”

Billy didn’t say anything, only nodded his head once. A warm, parentless home sounded exactly like what he needed, but he couldn’t ask. Couldn’t, wouldn’t, all the same thing. 

But he wasn’t _leaving_ either, which kind of just left him and Steve at a standstill until Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, just come on.”

Billy wanted to protest, if only because that’s what it felt like he _should_ have done, but Steve was tugging him towards the house by his sleeve and, well. Steve Harrington is not a kid a lot of people say no to.

Billy lingered in the doorway, suddenly catching a glimpse of his feet in the bright light that hung in the chandelier overhead. They’re filthy. And it’s not like he and Steve hadn’t ran wild through this house after playing outside, but it’s never been _this_ bad. He tracked in an accumulation of dirt he’d collected from walking from one end of town to the other and he felt all the more dirty, _inferior_ , when he remembered _why_.

Steve was halfway up the stairs when he realized Billy wasn’t following. “You plan on standing there all night like a weirdo or-” he’s saying as he turned around, frozen mid thought because he must’ve caught his first real glimpse of what Billy looked like in all his shattered glory. 

To his credit, Steve didn’t make a further deal out of it, even though Billy could read the worry in his face clear as day. But it was still awkward, being under that gaze. Crossing his arms over his chest, Billy shuffled around a little in place, trying his best to cover his feet with the hem of his jeans while he stared right back at Steve, jaw square and tense. 

“D’you wanna take a shower?” Steve asked. “Warm up a little? I can get you some clothes…”

A shower sounded like fucking heaven. Billy chewed it over for a second, temptation winning out when he responded with another curt nod before following Steve upstairs.

He was too tired to stand up. Opted to just sit on the shower floor, knees pulled up to his chest, and let the warmth engulf him. It felt safer in there, somehow. The safest place he’d been in weeks. 

He hadn’t bothered with washing his hair, or washing much of anything, really, besides the dirt from his feet and the blood from his neck and ear. Scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was left red and raw. 

Steve left him a pair of grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with Arkansas written big and bold across the chest, and Billy had never felt more like a hick in his life. It fit a little snug on him, but it wasn’t too bad. There was a scent to it that was so distinctly _Steve_ that he thinks it could’ve been three sizes too small and he still wouldn’t have taken it off. 

Billy left his own clothes on the bathroom floor if only because he hadn’t known what else to do with them, and went off to find Steve. He could hear his voice somewhere downstairs, must’ve been on the phone because no one was answering back. 

_”Yeah, I’m sorry about canceling last minute, but I’m just-” a cough, “-so sick all of a sudden, you know?”_

Billy listened from the bannister, quiet as a mouse as he made his way down the stairs to get closer to the source (the kitchen, he guessed) without Steve hearing him. 

_”I promise I’ll make it up to you. Would I lie?”_

Steve’s voice dripped with that charm he’d only really perfected in that past year. Billy’d had to stand by and watch all the girls in their grade swoon over it, and the more they swayed, the thicker Steve learned to lay it on. It would’ve been impressive had it not made Billy’s head ache. He _wasn’t_ jealous. Of the girls or of Steve. It was just a show he got tired of watching.

“Didn’t know I was ruining date night,” Billy said, making himself known only after Steve’d hung up. He wouldn’t admit to finding it cute the way Steve jumped at being clearly startled. 

“Shit, man,” he breathed, hand flying over his heart as he caught his breath. “It’s, uh, it’s fine. We rescheduled.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, nodded, before taking a seat at the kitchen island. He drummed his fingers on the countertop, not wanting to think about what it meant that Steve canceled a _date_ just to look after him. “You didn’t have any better shirts around, seriously?” he said, pulling at the ‘K’, face contorting into just the tiniest scowl. 

“What’s wrong with Arkansas?” Steve asked, standing a little taller, arms folding over his chest like he was offended. But Billy knew he wasn’t. Well, not _seriously_ , anyway.

Billy balked, like that was such a ridiculous question it shouldn’t have needed answering. “The fuck were you doing in Arkansas?”

“If you _must_ know,” Steve drawled, “We drove through when we went down to Louisiana.”

“So why didn’t you just get a Louisiana shirt?”

“Who says I didn’t?”

“So then give me that one.” Billy didn’t _really_ care. It was just fun watching Steve get all riled up. 

“I don’t have one,” Steve admitted.

“But you have Arkansas?”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “I liked the name, okay? Jesus!” But there was a smile fighting its way on his face, a laugh he couldn’t subdue. It was contagious. 

“You’re something else, Stevie.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Steve leaned forward on the island opposite of where Billy was sitting, and for a moment it felt like it used to. Before Billy went and fucked everything up. It was nice. 

“I missed this,” Steve said quietly, like he could read Billy’s mind. 

“Yeah, me too.”

A silence fell between them. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock off in the living room. It felt like an echo of Billy’s own heart beating. 

“What happened to you tonight?”

And _God_ they were so close. Billy really thought he’d gotten away with avoiding it. He should’ve known. You can’t just show up bloody in front of someone’s house and expect it to go forgotten. 

But it felt _good_ being there, with Steve. Almost back to some sense of normalcy between them. Billy wasn’t ready to give that up. 

“I pierced my ear,” Billy explained, deciding that a half truth was better than a lie.

“You what?” Steve balked, somewhere between a laugh and pure shock. 

Billy shrugged. “I wanted it pierced, my dad wouldn’t take me, so I grabbed a safety pin and did it myself.” He said it like it was no big deal, hoping it was enough to satisfy Steve’s curiosity. 

“That’s… kind of badass,” Steve said, and Billy thought he could detect just the slightest hint of admiration in his voice. 

But wasn’t enough, apparently.

“That doesn’t explain how you ended up here, _barefoot_ , though.”

Steve’s not stupid, no matter what his father might think. He has these moments where he’s so keenly aware of the people around him that, in all honesty, it scares the shit out of Billy. The thought of being that _seen_. It was scaring him then.

“Steve…” Billy went to run a hand over his face, or maybe just _run_ , but Steve reached out across the island, placing a gentle but firm grasp on Billy’s arm to keep him in place.

“I know we’ve had our shit, but-” he paused, like he was searching for the right words. “I’m here for you, you know that?”

Billy swallowed. The hand on his arm felt scalding, like it would leave a brand when Steve took it away. He’d never told anyone about the shit that went on at home. Never even considered it an option. But Steve was staring at him so wide-eyed and earnest that he figured maybe he could make one exception…

“My dad threw me out.” Billy could barely hear his own voice. Doesn’t understand how Steve could, but judging by the way his eyes went impossibly larger, he must have. “He didn’t like what I did,” he gestured to his ear, “so…” He figured he could at least leave out the bit about him being a pansy. Not like Steve didn’t already know.

“Shit, Bill…” Steve came around the island to comfort Billy, but Billy threw his hands up to stop him. If Steve touched him then he knew he would’ve broke.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just… need a place to crash tonight.”

Steve quietly nodded his head, running his fingers through his hair the way he does sometimes when he’s thinking something over. “Your dad doesn’t like, hit you, does he?”

“Sometimes.” Billy shrugged, trying not to make it a big deal.

“Shit! Billy!” Steve’s voice raised louder than either of them had that whole night. Like a fire had just been lit under his ass. “You have to tell somebody!”

“I’m telling you,” Billy countered, trying to keep his voice steady despite the panic that rose. 

“Yeah, but-”

“No, Steve! This doesn’t get back to _anybody_ , got it?” Billy’s voice went fiercer, more serious than he’d ever used on Steve. On anyone. He’d made a huge mistake. He never should’ve opened his mouth.

Steve’s hands went up in surrender before things could escalate. “Alright, fine. But… I don’t know, _fuck_ , Billy. Promise me you’ll always come here. When shit gets bad. At least give me that.”

Billy wasn’t sure that was a promise he could keep, but he found himself agreeing to it anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s good having Steve back in his life, even better in his corner. Billy even ends up apologizing for their fight, for shoving Steve down the way he did. They don’t talk about the kiss, though, and Billy’s beyond grateful Steve never brings it up. He’s faced a lot of things tonight, but that’s the one he’s still not ready to. 

They end up raiding the Harrington’s liquor cabinet. It’s not their first time, but it is the first time they drink enough to feel something. It’s only a slight buzz. Steve’s too paranoid about drinking too much of his parents’ shit lest they notice. But it’s fine. 

They end the night in Steve’s bed, laying on their sides facing each other, whispering secrets to each other in the dark. It’s stupid shit, mostly. Neither of them wanting to get heavier than what Billy’s already revealed. It’s nice. Billy’s got his best friend back, and he thinks that alone makes this entire shitty day worth it. 

Steve falls asleep first. Billy watches the way the moonlight trickles through the window just enough so he can make out the soft features of the boy in front of him. He wants to reach out and touch, but keeps his hands clenched beneath the pillow under his head. This is enough for him, he thinks. Will spend the next few years tricking himself into believing as much. And when he closes his eyes, he’s lulled into the most restful sleep he’s had since he’d moved here.

**Author's Note:**

> this is only my second harringrove fic and i really decided to go batshit with the word count... okay... 
> 
> comments and kudos much appreciated. im on tumblr @fredsythe if you wanna find me there. the second chapter is gonna delve more into the season 1 - 2 (possibly a lil season 3) timeline. i still havent decided if i want this fic to include monsters so... give me your two cents on whether or not you want that. ive got a plan either way. HOPEFULLY this stays 2 chapters but like... who the fuck knows. ok thats all have a nice day :)


End file.
